


Take Me Out to the Ball Game

by magneticdice



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Baseball, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magneticdice/pseuds/magneticdice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey go to a baseball game together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Out to the Ball Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is an expansion of a drabble I originally posted on Tumblr, set sometime during early season 3. I think it's cute and fluffy... enjoy.

**Take Me Out to the Ball Game**

“You got plans tomorrow?”

It was almost the end of the day and Mickey had been putting off talking to Ian about anything of significance since that morning. The redhead had already counted out the register and had his backpack over his shoulder. Mickey vaguely wondered why Ian even had a backpack, since his summer classes had ended over a week ago.

“No… It’s my day off, remember?”

Stupid question... of course Mickey knew that it was Gallagher’s day off, but that didn’t mean he wanted to seem like he _cared_ enough to keep track of his fuck buddy’s schedule.

“Wanna go to a Sox game?” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Do - you - want - to - go - to - a - White - Sox - game?” he huffed out, saying each word separately, as if Ian was hard of hearing.

The younger boy knit his brow together in confusion while he mulled over Mickey’s words, then smiled. “You mean, like a date?”

Oh God, this was exactly why he had dreaded asking Ian...

“ _Not a date_ ,” Mickey hissed through gritted teeth.

“But you got tickets?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. Mickey had gotten the tickets off some punk who owed him money but needed more time to pay up, and, okay, _maybe_ he had thought Ian would enjoy going to a game. He vaguely remembered him mentioning something about sneaking into one after he’d gotten out of Juvie, but he’d had other things on his mind that night.

“Real tickets?” Ian pressed.

“Yes I have real fucking tickets, Gallagher. What, you wanna see ‘em as proof?” He patted his pocket, at where he was keeping the two legitimate tickets. Did Ian really have that little faith in him?

“Maybe I do,” Ian teased. Mickey had to hand it to him for being skeptical. It wasn’t as if he had actually _paid_ for the tickets, afterall, but the important thing was that they wouldn’t be sneaking in.

They walked out of the store and Mickey waited a few steps away while Ian pulled down the gate and locked up. “What time’s the game start?”

“One.”

“‘Kay. Meet you at your place?” he asked innocently.

Mickey sighed. He didn’t feel like explaining to Mandy why he and Gallagher were going to a baseball game together.

“How ‘bout you just meet me at the L?”

“You got the tickets, Mick. The least I can do is pick you up for our date at your house…”

“How many times do I gotta tell you it’s not a fucking date, asshole?” Mickey Milkovich did not fucking _do_ dates.

“Uh-huh, sure it’s not,” Ian said back with a grin, but at Mickey’s answering death-glare, he quickly held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, alright, it’s not a date. So I’ll meet you at the train at a quarter after twelve?”

“Yeah, whatever,” came Mickey’s grunted response.

“Awe, cheer up. This is gonna be great,” he said with a laugh, turning to walk towards his house. “Oh, and bring a hat! It’s supposed to be really hot tomorrow!” he called back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah…” Mickey muttered as he headed off in the opposite direction.

~ ~ ~

Their seats were probably the worst ones in the whole stadium. They were so far up in the nosebleeds that they couldn’t even make out the numbers on the uniforms without looking at the screen to know which player was where. Mickey bit his lip and glanced over at Ian nervously, feeling bad for getting such crappy tickets, but the redhead was smiling, leaning forward in his seat with his hands on the railing in front of him, attention fully on the game. It didn’t look like where they were sitting made a shred of difference to him.

Gallagher had been right: it was _really_ fucking hot. The sun was beating down on them mercilessly.

“If our seats were one level down, we would be in the shade,” Mickey griped.

“I _told_ you to wear a hat,” Ian shrugged.

“Fuck that, I’m not gonna look like an idiot in a baseball cap,” he shot back. Although he _was_ kicking himself for not listening to the younger boy. Looking like a loser in front of all the other random losers in the stadium seemed like a fair price to pay for not getting sunburnt. And yeah, Gallagher might look like a douche with his stupid White Sox cap on, but he wasn’t the one squinting the whole time.

~ ~ ~

Ian insisted that they buy a box of Cracker Jacks.

“It’s ten bucks. You can get caramel corn at the Kash and Grab for like three dollars. What the hell?”

“You can’t go to a baseball game without buying Cracker Jacks, Mick. Everybody knows that; it’s in the fucking song, for God’s sake.”

Mickey reluctantly forked over a five dollar bill, even though he ended up eating more than half of the popcorn.

~ ~ ~

Ian did the wave every single time it came by.

“Look, there’s another one starting up,” Ian told him, pointing to the opposite side of the stadium. People were standing up in unison with their hands held up in the air. “Get ready,” he said to Mickey.

Mickey shook his head but Ian’s attention was on the quickly approaching wave. It was the third one of the game, and Mickey didn’t get what Gallagher’s obsession was with them. As soon as the people to their left stood, Ian shot up and tried pulling Mickey to his feet too.

Somehow the older boy remained firmly in his seat. Mickey might have seemed small but he was a lot heavier than he looked, especially when he planted himself. Years of experience fighting unfair fights had taught him how to stay put if he wanted to.

“You’re wasting your energy,” he said to a still-laughing Ian.

The younger boy was unphased by Mickey’s apparent disinterest. He sat back down with a thump and rolled his eyes at Mickey before going back to watching the game with interest.

~ ~ ~

The Sox were completely blowing it.

“I can’t believe they’re having their asses handed to them so royally in their own stadium,” Ian sighed.

“Hey, don’t complain. It works out to our advantage.”

“What are you talking about?” Ian asked, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“People are leaving,” Mickey said.

‘Uh, yeah… and?”

“And they’re leaving their seats empty,” Mickey explained.

He could tell the moment Ian understood his point, because his forehead relaxed and a small smile played at the corners of his lips.

As more and more people gave up on the team and decided to leave early, the boys were able to move down the rows, getting closer to the field with each passing inning.

While everyone was distracted during the seventh inning stretch, they even moved down from the mezzanine and got into the section with box seats.

“Won’t the security guards care?” Ian worried, constantly looking over his shoulder.

Mickey was once again reminded of the difference between his family and Ian’s. Gallaghers broke the law to survive, whereas the Milkoviches broke it for the hell of it. They took what they wanted, even if it was just for entertainment, and they rarely ever got caught.

“No one gives a shit,” he told the younger boy. “Especially not when more than half of the stadium is empty and they’re losing so badly.”

Ian seemed to relax again as soon as the break between innings was over. Oddly enough, Mickey realized that he was more interested in the game now that they were sitting so close.

Ian started cheering the Sox on and encouraged Mickey to join him. Instead, Mickey decided to start heckling the visiting team, and a few of the hardcore, already-drunk-in-the-afternoon Sox fans sitting near them were all too happy to have someone to boo with.

When the fifth wave passed by, Mickey surprised Ian by standing up too. He didn’t exactly raise his hands in the air, but it was something, and Ian’s resulting grin was all the reaction he needed to know he’d made the right choice.

~ ~ ~

“That was awesome,” Ian told him on the L as they rode back home.

“They lost ten to one. How’s that awesome?”

Gallagher shook his head and didn’t offer an answer but the smile on his face hadn’t dropped an inch since they’d left the stadium.

“It’s fucking embarrassing is what it was,” Mickey added, leaning his head back against the CTA map behind him. His face was definitely burnt and he was already feeling the familiar exhaustion that followed a really bad sunburn. He closed his eyes but he could still hear Ian lightly chuckle at his words.

“This was a perfect date,” he said to Mickey, low enough that the older boy didn’t have to worry about anyone else on the train hearing them.

He decided to pretend he hadn’t hear it either; arguing that it wasn’t a date would have taken too much effort.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, he was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling of his room. He still had a couple of hours left before he needed to be at work, but he hadn’t gotten much sleep since he preferred sleeping on his stomach and that wasn’t a possibility the previous night. His whole face felt like it was on fire. He hadn’t looked in the mirror yet, but he could already hear the lobster jokes that would be delivered to him for the next few days.

There was a loud knock on the front door.

“Hey douchebag, can you get the door? I’m in the middle of something.”

Mickey grunted but lazily got up out of bed. He glanced towards the bathroom and saw Mandy standing awkwardly with one leg braced on the edge of the sink, a razor in one hand and a cigarette in the other, but she slammed the door shut before he had a chance to make a comment.

Mickey found a pair of jeans and stepped into them quickly before heading into the living room. Gallagher was waiting patiently on the other side of the front door when Mickey finally opened it.

“Here,” the boy said, pushing a brown paper bag into Mickey’s hands.

“What’s this?” the Mickey wondered. He peeked into the bag and saw a small plastic bottle inside.

“I have to open the store today. Wanna go in early with me? I can thank you for the Sox tickets,” Ian offered.

Mickey didn’t even have to think about it. Gallagher’s meaning was clear. He pushed his feet‒holed socks and all‒into the pair of boots by the door and, next thing he knew, he was following Ian to the Kash and Grab like a trained dog.

~ ~ ~

Mickey would have never admitted that he needed the aloe, but he also didn’t complain later on when they were catching their breath on the floor of the supply room and Ian leaned over to gently rub the green, slimy gel onto Mickey’s aching cheeks, nose and forehead.

 


End file.
